


Cure For Nerves

by toshiyaontheshore



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, OT5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toshiyaontheshore/pseuds/toshiyaontheshore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toshiya is feeling particularly nervous before their DUM SPIRO SPERO performance at the Budokan. When his usual methods of calming down have failed him, he finds a source of comfort previously overlooked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cure For Nerves

**Author's Note:**

> based off of an idea i shot off on my tumblr; this can be taken as gen, but it's really meant to be looked at as all of the members being in a consenting relationship together. because shipping two of them together is great and all but what about all five y'feel me. i'm gonna make everyone ship ot5 i'm gonna do it

Despite the fact that they had played the Budokan before, Toshiya can't help but feel overwhelmingly anxious about the entire situation. The stage is set, the band members are warmed up, and it is about an hour before the show stars. Everything is prepared and ready to go, except for the nervous bassist. He's taken the stomach pills that he usually takes before a show when he's especially frazzled, yet they'd done little to assuage his frayed nerves. Leaning against a wall backstage, arms pressed firmly at his sides, he bounces from foot to foot in an attempt to distract himself from his racing thoughts. But that, like the stomach pills, doesn't do much to help.

He turns his attention to his breathing—out, in, out, in—and it's incredible how something as simple as breathing seemed foreign to him. The bassist doesn't even know why he is so nervous—perhaps it is because it had been a while since they'd played such a huge show, perhaps it is because he might still be feeling off from their trip back from Australia, or perhaps it is even something as simple as the way he'd gotten out of bed that morning. Regardless, dwelling on the “why” of the situation will do little to help him.

The fact of the matter is that his nerves are worse than usual—way worse, in fact. He feels as though he'll vomit or pass out—or even both—at any given moment, and nothing he did that typically helped was doing him much good. For a moment he'd feel better, he'd think that he'd gained control, but then his thoughts would go out in every direction faster than he could even fathom to keep up with and he is back at square one again. Staff members pass him by without so much as sparing him a passing glance, too busy with their own work—understandable, really. Occasionally, someone casts him a worried look, offers a sympathetic smile, or a nod of reassurance, but there isn't much they can do to help with their own hands full before the show. Again, Toshiya understands. He does his best to return the gestures, with a bit of difficulty, unsurprisingly.

Toshiya is so caught up in trying to calm himself down that he doesn't even notice Kaoru's presence beside him until the tips of the guitarist's fingers graze the side of his hand. Almost immediately, Toshiya jerks away in surprise, feeling his heart leap to his throat as he becomes aware of the older man standing by his side.

“Shit, Kaoru, don't surprise me like that,” He manages out once he catches his breath, returning to his position against the wall with his hands firmly at his side beside the guitarist.

“I'm sorry.” Kaoru's voice holds a tone of sincerity that surprises Toshiya for the second time in that matter of moments. It was almost as if he'd actually _feels_ truly sorry for startling the bassist—it isn't mocking, but it is a level of sincerity that Toshiya feels the situation didn't exactly warrant. Regardless, the younger man shifts his gaze away from Kaoru's face, refraining from commenting on the guitarist's response. They stand together silently and watch as people shuffle by—Kaoru slack against the wall and Toshiya returning to the tense posture he'd been maintaining before the guitarist's untimely arrival.

After a few minutes, the bassist feel the older guitarist's fingertips against the side of his hand again. Swallowing thickly, Toshiya lets the other man's smaller hand slide against his own. Thin, calloused fingers wrap around his wide palm, thumb coming to massage the back of his hand without missing a beat. The two of them continue to stand against the wall, clutching tightly to each other's hand, isolated from the bustling of the staff members moving past them. Toshiya keeps his gaze firmly locked on the wall in front of him, sweaty hand shifting in the guitarist's own dry one. He wants to comment on the situation, to joke about how silly the whole thing seems to him, about how it is funny how they ended up holding hands so intimately in such a public space, yet the bassist cannot deny how comforting it is to have the leader's hand tightly held his own. He's a grounding presence, the glue that's held the band together so tightly for years, the solid beam holding Toshiya up in that moment of time even as he's threatening to collapse under the stress and pressure currently weighing him down. It feels silly how ridiculously frightened he is about a show like this—a show that he's playing at a place he's been to before, a place that it's a dream to play at, a dream that's been fulfilled before, yet that's now looming over him like an angry storm cloud that he can't seem to will away or shield himself from.

Yet, as he steals a glance at the smaller man beside him, the man that seemed so relaxed and at peace with himself, he feels a little safer in his own skin despite still feeling as nervous as he felt from the start. He can feel the tension returning to his muscles and goes to grip Kaoru's hand tighter before Die passes in front of them. The red-haired guitarist almost completely passes them by before doing a double-take and backpedaling to take the sight before him in. He scans the two men with his eyes, once, twice, folding his arms over his chest as he observes them with narrowed eyes and slightly pursed lips. It's his thinking face, one that the band has become accustomed to over the years, one that they've learned not to point out to the other man because he's perfectly aware that he does it.

When he's finished, he reaches out and grabs Toshiya's free hand. “You two are coming with me.” He states simply before pulling them through the hallway, down a few corridors, past a few small groups of people until he comes to a large couch nestled comfortably in the middle of a large room. It's not too far away from the stage that they can't hear the crowd of people gradually gathering there, but it's removed enough to give each of them their own peace of mind.

Kaoru is the first to sit down, pulling the bassist with him onto the worn couch, and then Die. The older guitarist keeps his grip on Toshiya's hand tight as ever, thumb still rubbing over the back of his hand in small, soothing circles. Die, on the other hand, pulls away from Toshiya's grip to loop his arm around the bassist's shoulders. His hand makes its way up the back of the younger man's neck and into his short, bleached hair, trimmed nails scratching gently against the base of Toshiya's skull and gradually moving up to the back of his head, then to his scalp, and back down again. The bassist can feel himself loosening up, can feel himself melting into the comforting hands of his bandmates, yet he can't seem to stop his mind from racing. He can't fully relax, frustratingly so, despite their efforts even though he feels substantially calmer than he did before they'd come along.

The two men continue to do their best to calm their bassist—Kaoru's grip never going lax even for a moment and Die's hand remaining busy at work against the back of his head. Toshiya admires their dedication and wants to thank them for taking time out of their period of relaxation before the show to help him out, but a set of hands shifting Die's arm out of the way stops him short. Die's hand continues to run through his hair, though a new set of hands starts to rub the tension out of his shoulders. The delicate yet firm grip informs Toshiya that it's their drummer standing behind them, and he finds himself sinking further into the fabric of the couch—further into the tender hands of the other members as they work so diligently to help him out before their show.

Toshiya briefly wonders if someone told Shinya about the situation, but he allows himself to pass it off as coincidence—the others had simply been wandering around, probably trying to unwind yet get themselves pumped up before the show. It had just so happened that they'd noticed Toshiya's situation and decided to intervene and offer their assistance. The bassist feels guilty for a brief moment, like he's hindering the other men and taking away from their time, but he refrains from bringing his thoughts to light. He knows them by now—they all know each other and their habits by now. They're not the kind of people to step into a situation if they don't want to, and Toshiya's heart flutters at the thought of the others genuinely wanting to help him out.

_Of course they want to help,_ he scolds himself, _they're your friends, your bandmates, your partners, of course they want to make sure that you can put out your best effort, just as they can. You would do the same thing for them in a heartbeat._

“Kyo, I'm really not sure the couch is big enough for—okay, fine, I guess it is.” Toshiya is pulled out of his thoughts when Kyo squeezes between him and Die, snug against his left side and causing a bit of upset as the others hurriedly adjust their positions to make room for him. Kaoru opens his mouth to retort before the vocalist casts him a wary look, causing the guitarist to shift his attention elsewhere as to avoid causing a scene. Toshiya doesn't make any move to complain, for he has no reason to complain when the vocalist slips his long fingers beneath the hem of his shirt to rub at his back. The bassist feels his cheeks darkening when he realizes just how sweaty he is, yet Kyo doesn't comment on it, nor does he seem to mind as he drags his fingers over the otherwise smooth skin of the younger man's back.

The five of them sit in silence—Kaoru with his left hand firmly clutched in Toshiya's right, Kyo pressed against Toshiya's left side and tracing abstract patterns across the skin of his back, Die slightly straining to keep his hand moving through Toshiya's hair, and Shinya hovering behind the group of men and deeply massaging Toshiya's slowly relaxing shoulders. The minutes tick by and the bassist finds himself becoming less and less tense with each passing one. And despite the fact that the other men are actively working to soothe him, Toshiya notices that they too are becoming more and more relaxed the longer they are together. He finds it funny, really—how they can stress each other so much on a daily basis, how they can drive each other to their wits' end, yet still find it in them to be able to calm each other down when it really counts. He also finds it funny that the four men—his four partners—are working so hard to help him out and that they don't even realize that they too are being helped by the situation.

They remain in contact until the stage lights surge and the fans' screams escalate, until the staff members begin to frantically look for them to get into position to get onstage—only then do they pull apart, only to come together again to press their hands together in a ritual they've done since the beginning of their performing years as a band.

As they break apart and take the stage one by one, as Toshiya's turn to step into the darkness inches closer and closer, he finds himself feeling more at ease before this performance than he has in years—than he ever has, really.

He exhales, confidently strides forward and—

 

The show is over. Toshiya stumbles backstage, adrenaline both keeping him upright and sending his body into jittery fits that threatens to topple him over at any moment. Noises meet his ears yet he cannot discern their source as he drifts past staff member after staff member. Somewhere along the way, he'd acquires a towel, though he isn't doing much to put it to use and remains dripping with sweat. He registers the many sets of hands pulling him to a stop, the wet pressure of lips on his face, voices all-too-familiar congratulating him and praising him hysterically before he realizes exactly who is gracing him with these sensations. Tattoos solidify themselves in his vision, then the hands they belong to—worn from years of guitar work, from clutching onto microphones for dear life, from gripping drumsticks so tightly—and then finally faces.

Smiling faces.

Laughing faces.

Faces tinted red, stained in tears that could easily be passed off as sweat, faces with lips that shower the bassist with reassurance and admiration and pure, unreserved joy.

Faces that he's come to know so well over the seventeen years they've been together as a group, for the years he's lost count of that they've spent together getting to know their bodies and their lives and their innermost secrets—

Faces that he wouldn't mind seeing for years to come.

Adrenaline still rushs through his veins and he is itching to move around, to jump and bound through the halls of the stadium, to shout to the heavens how completely euphoric he is about the show they'd just put on, yet the hands on his biceps, on his shoulders, on his face keep him rooted to the spot.

These are the same hands that had settled his nerves so well just a few hours earlier and that had left him wondering where such a simple solution had been all his life. He didn't even have to say how well it had worked, because it had been proven to the five of them through the performance they had just put on. It had been their best show yet, and they didn't even need to convey that with words. It was mutually felt and understood, and Toshiya knew this by the look the other members—his partners—had glittering in their eyes.

They remain still for another moment before shifting to wrap their arms around each other. To those that didn't know any better, they were simply huddling together after a particularly fantastic show. However, huddling was reserved for before their shows and was far less intimately charged than what they were sharing now. A comfortable silence hung over them as they shared the hug, clinging so tightly to each other, as if breaking any connection or any form of contact would shatter the moment they'd settled into.

And if Toshiya had whispered a soft “thank you” amongst the quiet tears and the gentle breathing, no one drew any attention to it.

 


End file.
